


Starting From Scrap

by Fetronic, Magicphobic



Category: Fallout 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fetronic/pseuds/Fetronic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicphobic/pseuds/Magicphobic
Summary: A Fallout story that follows the life of an institute Synth post-Institute destruction by the Sole Survivor (an Sole oc made by Magicphobic) and his adventures in dealing with "The New Institute" and discovering all that the Commonwealth has to offer.





	1. Prelude

     Late at night, in the early stages of a storm, a woman, covered in an old, white jumpsuit, had just climbed out of a hole in the ground. The hole was a decent size, about as big as a pair of cellar doors. It led to the outside, and was placed next to a modest prewar shack. It held up well against the elements, and there was even a small patch of farm land surrounded by a equally as modest fence. 

     The look of the house, however, was not important right now. The woman had a task to do, but it wasn't something she'd been looking forward to. In her hands she held a piece of paper in a file and she obscured the name of it with her hands. She knew what she held wasn't good, and she wanted to make this as easy on herself as she could. She walked from the hole and went to the front door, her boots making fresh prints in the newly softened dirt. She stuck out her hand and gave her time to calm her nerves before she twisted the rusty knob and opened the door. 

     She looked around the small house and getting her baring and, to her left, found the kitchen. It was a very underwhelming kitchen, most of the furniture was either broken beyond repair or rusted. In the sad mess, she walked up to the refrigerator and opened it up. Inside there was nothing but a broken light, a couple racks, and a small key. Like the door nob, she took her time to reach out for the key and snatched it. After closing the fridge, she pocketed it and made her way back outside.

     She followed her old footsteps and walked past the man made hole, and continued to walk into to forest. With the file in her hand, she slowed her pace as she nervously walked through the forest. As she walked, the trees started to thicken up and the atmosphere got darker. It didn't take long for the trees to reveal an even smaller shack, and two people guarding it. She walks up to them and is stopped before she can enter.

     “Halt,” the one of her left says, “name and identification.”

     “Gabrielle,” she states, “I am here to see _Him_.”

     “Can you state further business?” the one on the right demands.

     “Other than it is for the improvement of our situation, I cannot.” Gabrielle replies.

     The two guard shift out of the way wordlessly and let her in. She uses the key and unlocks the door to the shack and immediately closes it. The shack is as big on the outside as it is on the inside, it isn't. Underneath her feet is a rug, which she promptly kicks out of the way and reveals a trap door. It creaks loudly as she opens it and climbs down the hole it covered. A small ladder in the hole greeted her feet as she climbed down and closed the trap door behind her. 

     It didn't take long for her to walk down the ladder and turn around to see yet another crudely made tunnel that was cut off by a sturdy metal door. The closer she got to the door, the more her nerves acted up. She took her time to make it to the door, and took even longer to knock on it. Clang, Clang, Clang. Her knocking rattled the hallway and the noise echoed loudly, she could only imagine what it sounded like on the other side.

     A small speaker box rested in the wall next to the door, and after a few moments of deafening silence the box turned on and a voice came through. “Enter.” was the only word the chilling voice had uttered through the box, and sounds of locks unlocking. Gabrielle grabbed the handle and pushed the door open. 

     Inside was a lot better looking than the hallways, with the walls covered in concrete, the floor made of wood, and the ceiling covered in metal panels. The room was dead empty except for a prewar desk, a floor lamp, a terminal, a desk chair, and a man in that chair. The light was positioned behind the man, illuminating the desk and Gabrielle, but the man was shrouded from his own shadow. Gabrielle froze in his presents, while the man remained motionless. 

     “You made the effort to get my attention and you have my fullest, what are you here for?” the man's deep voice echoed through the room.

     “I... uhhh, well sir there's... um, something happened and... Uhhh...” Gabrielle had a very hard time with coming up with the right words, and her hands started to shake a little. The shaking caught the man's eye and he looked at the file in Gabrielle's hand. 

     “Please show me the file that's in your hand, Captain.” 

     The man's cold voice shot Gabrielle's nerves again, however, she handed him the file swiftly fearing that he would be unhappy with her slowness. He read the file, and confusion washes over his face.

     “Why have you shown me the file of our weapons smith?” the man questions, this being the first sign of emotion to pass through his lips and it not being a positive one doesn't put Gabrielle's nerves to rest. 

     “Well, sir, that is because... he's gone.” she says sheepishly. 

     “He's gone...? What do you mean, he's gone?” anger quickly engulfs the man as he takes his sunglasses off and slowly stands from his chair. His black trench coat now fully illuminated from behind, and his shadow engulfing the slightly cowering Gabrielle.

     “G4-83, how did you let this man escape? Should I demote you because of your  
incompetency?”

     “No sir!” she peeps back, unable to speak loudly.

     “This,” he slaps down the file on the desk, the paper sliding out slightly, “is absolutely unacceptable. Your file said you would be the most qualified but maybe our superiors were wrong.” 

     “But sir, it's not that simple. I don't know how he-” she was trying to help her case, but was promptly cut off.

     “Silence, I do not want excuses. I promoted you to captain of security because I assumed you would be the best choice. Yet this is the third time someone has escaped this month. You made an oath to Father's grave that you are the best choice, have you gone against your oath?”

     “No sir, X6-88.” 

     “I have been taking too many risks on you G4-84, let this be the last or you'll be demoted to crop harvester. Leave my office now.” X6-88 points to the door and Gabrielle leaves without another word. He looks back at his desk and looks over the file again.

     “What makes _you_ so special? How did you escape from us?” He says quietly to himself, and continues. “6 foot even, requires glasses, dark brown hair and eyes, made for Weapon R&D... How did you figure out a way to leave?” 

     X6-88 tucks the file away in his desk, sits back down, and puts his sunglasses back on. He runs his hands through his short hair in exhaustion and sighs. He opens his terminal and adds another person to the AWOL list, then turns on his microphone and has his voice come trough all speakers.

     Gabrielle shuts the door to the shack behind her and hears X6-88's voice again, she keeps quiet and listens. “Attention, another synth has escaped from us and has gone rouge. We will be sending another recon team to collect him, if anyone has any information on X3-14, please bring it to my attention ASAP. Continue your designated duties as normal, do not make plans to escape. You will be caught and you will be reset. Thank you.”

     Gabrielle wipes her eyes, telling herself that a captain doesn't cry. She begins walking back to her post as loud thunder kicks her off.


	2. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the protagonist as he has his first real tastes of the Commonwealth.

     It was night time, the moon hid behind dark storm clouds and the commonwealth was under a near pitch black blanket. Thunder crackled and boomed as rain poured down like nails and pelted the soil. The only sound that pierced through the rain was the sound of loud panting and running. The soil was easily pushed away as foot prints appeared from thin air in a straight line and were headed north. Another sound erupted from the night, a low hum that's pitch got lower the longer it went on. 

     Suddenly, the source of the foot prints were revealed, a set of bare feet. Next, legs were visible, them being bare as well. Soon, an entire person was present in the night and it kept running. The person was a man, a man with brown eyes, short brown hair, glasses, was 6 foot even, and wore nothing but his briefs. The same man who had just escaped the harsh camp of the institute, and the Synth that now risked X6-88's entire plan. However, the synth kept running in the rain as he had been for a while now and had no plans on stopping.

     In the distance appeared a small, dim, light. It grew brighter and bigger as the synth ran closer to it, unsure of what it could be but not in the right mind yet to be overly worried about it. He knew what he was running from would be a far more dangerous threat than whatever he could run into. Then again, he hadn't been alone in the commonwealth before so he wasn't sure. He rationalized the thought that the light would be a good thing for him and he kept running, and running, and running until the light was very close.

     The light was surprisingly bright, in fact, it was bright enough to blind the synth's eyes as it had been getting accustomed to his surrounding darkness. In his blinded state, the Synth slipped, tripped, and fell flat on his face into the mud. His momentum kept his body going and he slid in the mud and was stopped abruptly. He lifted up his head and wiped the mud out of his eyes, and was met with a freshly made corpse. A human corpse. 

     “Someone there?” A deep voice called out, and with it came monstrous stomping noises. If it weren't for the voice, the Synth would have screamed and gotten up. He looked up past the corpse to see a giant green figure with a Two-by-Four covered in nails in his hands. The Giant sniffed, rubbed his nose, and looked around the area.

     “Drag doesn't like strange noises during dinner time.” muttered the giant under his breath. Drag then turned his back away from the undetected Synth and went back to eating. The sickening sounds of bones being snapped and open mouthed chewing made the Synth feel sick to his stomach and told him that he could be next if he stayed there in the mud. 

     “Hey, psst!” came a small whispering noise from behind the synth. He quietly shifted his body to look around for the noise. He spots a hand above a nearby Brahmin corpse, a hand that was still moving. 

     “Hey, you're still alive ain't ya? Gimmie a hand with the Super Mutant.” the voice behind the Brahmin said, before Drag turned around  and stood up again.

     “Drag said no interrupt Dinner time!” exclaimed Drag as he raised his weapon for a swing near the Brahmin.

     “Great, the bastard heard me. Here, catch!” the hand threw a brown, scrappy looking, gun at the still naked synth as Drag started to charge the person behind the Brahmin.

     The Synth caught the gun, stood up, and did the only thing he knew how. He looked down the makeshift sight and aimed at Drag's back, he held his breath and took a shot. 

     “Ooooowwwww, Humans like to hide and shoot Drag when Drag no looking. Drag squash human like Radroach! Hahaha.” Drag brushed off the bullet like it was nothing and charged at the Synth. “Naked man won't get away with this!” he said as he swings wildly at the Synth. 

     The Synth panics and shoots the gun from his hip randomly, the bullets stop Drag in his tracks for so long before the gun makes sharp ticking noises and the bullets stop coming from out of the gun. In a last ditch attempt, the Synth throws his gun at Drag's head and it bounces off harmlessly. The Synth crouches himself into a ball and prepares for the worst. 

     “HAHAHA! STUPID HUMAN, DRAG NOW GET TO HAVE DESERT TOO! HAHA-” Drag is cut off by a loud gunshot. What feels like an eternity later, the Super Mutant falls to the ground face first, and doesn't get back up. The Synth looks down at himself to inspect his own body in a moment of relief. He is untouched, and the only other markings were the freshly made blood splatter of Drag. He looks at the still corpse to see a pool of blood form around the head and a bullet sized entry hole in the back of it. 

     Finally, the Synth looked up to where the Brahmin corpse was to see the person attached to the hand was a woman, and held the smoking pre-war sniper rifle that had ended the fight. She wore tattered pre-war clothes, a scarf around her head, and a pair of sunglasses. She walked over the Brahmin corpse, took a moment to whisper something and close it's eyes, and then made it to the naked Synth. 

     “Looks like Drag not gonna have time to eat no more, huh?” She mocked at the corpse, kicked it, and looked up at the Synth. “Wow, you did a great job at distractin' the big guy. All while stark naked in the rain, huh?” She said, eyeing the now cold and anxious Synth, 

     “Y-Yeah,” he replied, “It does indeed seem like that. Thank you for having my back.” He ends with a nervous chuckle. 

     “No trouble at all, you had 'em pretty good didn't ya?” She chuckles before addressing the elephant in the room. “So... is being naked your thing or do you wanna-”

     “Yes!” the Synth said too quickly and accidentally cut off the woman, “Yes, sorry, I was wondering if you had any spare clothes on you?”

     “Shit, I might as well. Gimmie a second while I check on Bessie's cargo. Poor thing, rest her soul.” She said.

     The rain let up since Drag was killed, and the two were able to make a small camp out in the open. They pick a spot away from the carnage and set up, using Drag's weapon as a base for the fire. The woman looks into her cargo bag and hands the Synth the only clothes she had to give, a pair of Tattered rags. The synth gladly accepts the clothes and helps keep the fire going and cook dinner. They start to wind down after a decent dinner and near the nice cozy fire, the woman shifts slightly and gets the Synth's attention.

     “So, I don't think I've had the chance to introduce myself yet. 'Name's Shelly, I trade for a caravan, well... I did until that damn Super mutant blind sided us.” Shelly said, looking down into her can of beans sadly. 

     “So,” she picks back up, “what's your name? You got a story to tell?”

     “Not... really...” the Synth says sheepishly. “As for a name, I was never given  
one.” 

     Shelly looks at the Synth like he grew two heads and questioned him further. “You're-... Are you serious? Did your Ma or Pa never give you one?”

     “No, I never had them either, a Mother and Father I mean. I was only ever identified by a code number, X3-14.”

     “Oh, well, hmm...” Shelly didn't know how to take that. She wasn't used to people not being called people, and by the state of him he looked like he just got out of  
something terrible. She thought and thought for a long time before an idea popped into her head.

     “What about Alex?” Shelly said, breaking the long silence and peaking the Synth's curiosity. 

     “What about them?” The Synth looked up from his food, a little lost in the conversation. 

     Shelly only responded with a blank stare, his question confusing her. 

     “You've stated someone's name, do they mean anything to you?” The Synth says, just as confused as Shelly.

     The Synth's response brings Shelly's train of thought back on track and drives the conversation back to what she meant. “No, no no, I was suggesting a name for you. Now that you're playin' the wise guy, how 'bout I call you Alexander? Seems suitin' if you ask me.” 

     The synth took a moment to take what had happened to him today in. He'd barely escaped with his life, ran into a Super Mutant during a raging thunderstorm, survived the encounter with the miraculous help of someone else, and only now did he have clothes on his back. 

     The person who saved him didn't know him at all, what would she do if she found out he's a synth? He knows how the commonwealth feels about them, they'd rather him dead before even talking to him. He decided to keep to himself about who he was, and planned to keep details about himself as vague as he could, for Shelly and the rest of the Commonwealth. However, Shelly's kindness gave the Synth some confidence for the people who lived above ground, and how they weren't as savage as he once thought. 

     The synth brings himself out of his head and back to reality, and finds Shelly's face start to grow some concern for his quietness after she pitched him the name. 

     “So, Alexander was it?” The Synth responds, “I...” he pauses once more, and a kind smile creeps on his face. “I really like that. Thank you Shelly.”

     Shelly smiles back and chuckles a little, happy to have made another person a little bit happier. “No problem Sugar, glad to hear you like your new name.”

     The rest of the night goes by quietly, with both Alexander and Shelly now finishing up their meals and the fire starting to dim down. The storm clouds begin to drift away, and stars peak out from above them. Shelly gets up and dusts herself off while Alexander starts to clean his mess up and organize the scraps into a small pile next to the dimming fire. 

     “Welp,” Shelly says, breaking the silence. “Sounds like it's quiet enough to get some shut eye, I need to head back in the morning.” 

     Alexander gives her a small confused look. “Go back? Where are you headed?”

     “Ah, I never did tell ya that did I. I'm apart of the Crimson Caravan Company, I was hired to go from the Mojave Desert and make a connection with the Commonwealth, specifically Vault 88. They were broadcastin' a trade request and it reached some folks on the northern end of the Mojave. They got in contact with the Crimson Caravan and agreed to send out a Caravan, that's me, and trade some goods from the West side to the East.” Shelly pauses to look around the area, and sees the dead bodies of her guards and her pack brahmin, then continues. “As you can see, the run didn't go so well. So now I gotta hoof it back to the Mojave and report back. I told 'em sending the new guys out to accompany me was a bad idea, but they wouldn't listen to hired help like me. So now everythin' went to shit and I'm probably gonna get chewed out for it. Whatever, it's better than being capless and starvin'.”

     Alexander looked around too and gave Shelly a sad look. “I'm sorry to hear that, I hope your journey back home is a safe one.” 

     “Yeah me too, gonna need to detour to the Capital Wasteland and pick up some more body guards before I can safely get back home, but it's no huge deal.” Shelly stretches and pulls out two sleeping rolls, and tosses one to Alexander. 

     He catches the roll, stumbles a little bit from the impact, and get's Shelly's attention once more before he goes to sleep. “So, uh, you mentioned you were going to a Vault? Vault 88 right? It sounds like a safe place for someone who doesn't have a home to go to, you wouldn't happen to have directions would you?”

     Shelly pulls out a scrap piece of rag from her pocket and hands it to Alexander. He takes it and looks it over. “Take it,” she says, “I don't have much use for it anymore, follow the path up north until you reach it. It'll be in an abandoned mine, go through the tunnels until you see a giant vault door, you can't miss it. That everything Hun?”

     “Yes, thank you very much.” Alex says, “I'm very grateful for all that you've done for me tonight. Sleep well Shelly.”

     “You too Alexander.” Shelly responds before lying down, “Don't go makin' that  
new name of yours a hated one. I didn't save your life for you to become a raider or anythin' like it. You've got potential kid, I can feel it. Goodnight, Sugar.”

     “Goodnight.” He repeats back before closing his eyes and getting his first full night's rest in a while. 

 

     The Sun was high in the sky and it's intensity blares down on the land below it. The combination of the heat and brightness brings Alexander out of the coma like sleep he was in, and he opens his eyes. Suddenly, a putrid smell started to creep into Alexander's nose and he shot up from his Sleeping roll and onto his feet. Now awake and on guard, it doesn't take him long to find the source of the smell. The corpse of Drag was starting to decompose and it was going to attract the local insects to Alexander's location, encouraging him to leave the campsite as soon as he can.

     Alexander quickly gets to work in cleaning up the mess of the campsite and notices a distinct lack of Shelly. In fact, he looks around Drag's corpse and doesn't see the bodies of the bodyguards or the Brahmin. It doesn't take long for him to find a couple of new dirt mounds and wooden crosses sticking out of them, and he recognizes them as graves for the fallen. Alexander walks over to them, takes a knee, and silently honors their sacrifices. He gets back up and finishes his packing.  
Alexander, now with clothes on his back and a sleeping roll in his arms, takes out the piece of paper with the directions on it. He gives it a good hard look, gets a sense of direction with the crudely drawn landmarks and gets a rough idea of where he is on that map and which way he needs to go. He takes one last look at the now cleaned up Campsite, the freshly made graves, and the Supermutant corpse. It reminds him of what he accomplished in an evening, and as a warning of how his new life might go. He could have easily been killed last night, by either the Institute Guards or Drag. He feels lucky to be alive and happy to have met Shelly, he'll always remember this day as the start to his new life.

     “Alexander,” he says quietly to himself, “I am Alexander, and I will survive.”

     With that, his small words encourage him to take his first official steps towards his new life and a better one. He glances at his map once more before marching towards his new destination, Vault 88.


End file.
